


The Choices We Keep Making

by gala_apples



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Background Relationships, Crushes, Drunk Sex, Future Polyamory, Infidelity, M/M, Sort Of, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: The only thing worse than having a crush on a coworker while you're still head over heels with your first long term girlfriend, is when time travelling future-you makes out with said coworker first.
Relationships: Farah Black/Todd Brotzman, Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman/Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently/Dirk Gently
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	The Choices We Keep Making

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt bites/bruises for seasonofkink.

Sometimes life sucks, and sometimes life sucks a lot. It's not a question of attaining happiness, it's just about ways to avoid abject misery. And if that's emo, well he fits the fuckin’ part anyway. Sometimes the difference between punk and emo is minimal.

Such are Todd’s thoughts as he stares at the ceiling of his motel room. He doesn’t want to be alone in Grand Forks with Dirk as a lead sends Farah to Duluth for who knows how long. It sucks, but Dirk is destined to be here, and Farah made an executive decision that everyone was better off with Todd staying with him. Todd trusts in Farah’s rational decision making as much as he trusts in Dirk’s fate. And thus, he’s here.

Here, and drinking. It’s a good distraction from the current level of suck. The Happy Harry’s a few blocks over was open until midnight, and Todd had only been able to handle a few hours of alone time with Dirk before suggesting a walk over. Dirk had gone off about the possibilities of a late night walk, and Todd had let him think that was his motivation too, not the urgent need for a degree of separation, a shake up of the tension he’s holding in his shoulders. Nothing happened, unless accidentally getting Canadian change at the til counts. (If the moose quarter has something to do with the case, Todd’s going to scream into a pillow for a minute.) Todd didn’t wait a second after kicking his shoes off at the hotel room door to crack into his peach vodka. Girly, maybe, but sweet enough that he doesn’t need to bother with a chaser. To him, that’s just good planning.

Unsurprisingly, Dirk is a lightweight. Three blueberry ale in and he’s fucked up. It’s funny, Todd thinks, how alcohol doesn’t turn Dirk into a motormouth. Alcohol has a way of enhancing qualities already there, and already there in Dirk’s character sheet is the inability to shut up. It’s not like he goes mute, or anything to that extreme opposite, and he’s not an angry or weepy drunk either. Todd just would have put money on chatty drunk and instead he’s the sensation hungry drunk. Dirk’s been telling him for the last minute to come feel the hotel bedspread. It’s as fuzzy as a shaved head, apparently.

Dirk inviting him to bed has been a large portion of his guiltiest fantasies lately. Todd stays on his own queen mattress with the willpower of the penitent punished man. He knows the kind of karma that can come from doing terrible things, the way fate rebounds at you like a suddenly snapped wire. He promised Amanda he’d be better. He swigs his peach Smirnoff by the mouthful and listens to Dirk chirp about the things he’s feeling: the crisp cotton of the sheets, the soft fuzz of the underblanket and the slick water resistant comforter, the condensation on the beer, the breeze of being on the bed beside the air conditioner. It’s all stupid and whimsical, just like the man himself, and every time his heart swells with affection Todd takes another sip. Wouldn’t do to let himself feel it all undiluted, not without the safety net of Farah’s presence.

“Todd, hey, Todd? I think all this air will feel even lovelier if I don’t have pants on. And if I’m wrong, that just means I get to crawl under the blanket and warm up, which is a utterly comforting feeling, if I do say so myself. Now _that’s_ risk assessment. Farah would be proud!”

Dirk busies himself with taking off his pants, and his cardigan, and his socks. Todd can’t look away as Dirk loses his yellow boxers, even as guilt pours over him. Dirk stretches to reach his fourth bottle of blueberry ale and Todd knows Dirk doesn’t even fathom how he looks right now. No doubt he thinks everything he’s doing is innocent, is platonic. Is familial, even. Dirk probably thinks of Todd like his brother, and he should be right, and Todd wonders with another biting sip if he’ll ever stop being such a fuckup.

Todd can’t help but wonder if Dirk would taste different to the Rowdy Three right now. They eat energy, and Dirk is very clearly altered. He probably also literally doesn’t taste the same right now. Some of the best make outs Todd’s had have been with drunk guys at a bar post show, overheated and sweaty and salty. Dirk must be at least two of those things to be naked in front of an air conditioner. Todd knows he’s not allowed to want to know. He’s got Farah to lick and bite, which means Dirk’s off limits. But he’s also not allowed to bankrupt his parents or lie about chronic illness so really what’s another sin on the list?

Interrupting Todd’s morose thoughts about the wet salt above Dirk’s lips is a Holistic Event. Todd hasn’t become completely used to things just happening, and isn’t sure he ever will. He might not be frantically searching for signs of Holistic Events, like he was when Dirk was missing, but it still sends a frisson of thrill through him when one obviously begins to happen. In this case, it’s two human shapes slowly coming into focus, pixel by pixel. Given all his memories of Wendimoor, Todd’s first assumption is alternate universe. Even when the humans fully coalesce and it’s a copy of himself and Dirk, alternate universe still makes sense. They’re probably from a world where Blackwing has a Holistic Gatekeeper, someone who helps people back and forth between worlds. Todd envies that world’s Todd, who might get to know more about his-Dirk’s friends, whereas _this_ Dirk seemingly has no intention of sharing those details. Todd’s heard more from Martin via Amanda texting him interesting late night stories than he has from Dirk.

Still, better cover the basic explanation. Todd looks over to Dirk, who has sprung to sitting up. “This isn’t some drunken delusion, right? You’re seeing this too?”

Other-Todd speaks before Dirk can. “You’re not that drunk, you tolerant bastard.”

“Hello, past selves,” Other-Dirk says, giving them a dorky wave.

Ooooor maybe he’s wrong about alternate realities. But that was nothing like Zachariah Webb’s time machine. Who would have guessed there’s different types of time travel?

“Oh! That’s exciting,” Dirk, naked current Dirk, says. Another point for alcohol magnifying traits, four ales in and Dirk still wants to soak up every interesting instant in the world around him. How can Todd not love him? He shouldn’t, but how can he not?

Their future selves are not from a distant future, Todd notes, trying to drag his thoughts away from the ever present issue and to the Holistic Event in front of him. Future-Dirk’s got a mildly different hairstyle, but there are no wrinkles or crow’s feet. The main difference, much more so than hair, is that Future-Dirk’s covered in hickies. His neck is more bruise purple than fleshtone. It is stupid hot, exactly what Todd’s always wanted in a partner. Farah’s his first long term relationship, and not exactly the sort of person you ask to cause pain to in bed. And yeah, a lot of one night stands are up for biting and scratching, but there’s no satisfaction of seeing their marks shading different colours over the next week. He wonders who they meet in the future that loves Dirk in this way, and how ingrained in the detective agency she is. He wonders how much he hates her, or if it helps him get over Dirk, seeing him happy with someone else.

Future-Todd says “we remember how you feel,” as he steps forward, and for a brief moment Todd thinks they’re going to get a therapy session from their future selves who have lived through all their current problems. But that’s not the bland scene the holistic threads of the universe want to weave for them. And so he watches as Future-Todd doesn’t go get a hotel chair but rather descends onto current Dirk. Dirk just goes with it, like it’s anything else in his life. Future Todd is on top of Dirk, and kissing his neck, and Todd can’t take it, he can’t look at it anymore or he’s going to-

If this isn’t the Zachariah Webb type of time travel, then it follows that there might be different time travel rules for this version. Todd nearly sighs as his brain accepts the distraction, and pursues it by saying, “aren’t you worried about changing the future? This is sort of frivolous for such a dangerous thing.” 

“No, this is how we both remember this starting. It had to have is going to happen,” Future-Todd poorly explains. Todd sort of wants to hit himself in the face. How could this be who he is? Does he never learn his lesson?

Except he gets it more than he’d care to admit when Future-Dirk comes to him. He drops onto the bed, no pushing or manhandling, just sits mirroring him with a leg bent off the bed. Future-Dirk’s got a dog collar of hickies at various rates of healing, and it’s so fucking sexy Todd could drain the bottle of vodka and still get it up for him. He’s trying to get away from the impulsive shithead he used to be, but with any addiction recidivism rates are high, and after a minute of looking at Future-Dirk Todd surges forward and kisses him. His hand is a curl around Future-Dirk’s neck that slowly tightens until his fingers are digging into bruise and Future-Dirk whimpers. 

Todd snaps back to reality at the taste of a whimper in his mouth. He shoots to his feet and crosses to the other bed, where Future-Todd is sucking a bite into Dirk’s carotid. He shoves himself, hard, both hands. It’s not the complete derailment he wants, but at least Future-Todd stops leaving his mark.

“What the hell? How could- How bad is it with Farah?”

Todd looks at his counterpart, on his knees on the bed above Dirk. He’s nearly panting with his fury, hands balled into fists. He could have won against this shitty impulse, if not for Future-Todd sucker punching him like this. He could have kept in his lane having a girlfriend and ignoring how hot his best friend makes him. But Future-Todd ruined it all. Never mind merely not having a girlfriend, it’s possible she’s left the agency. Maybe Farah’s another relationship he’s destroyed, like everyone from Mexican Funeral, and for a time Amanda. It only makes it worse that Dirk is prone on the bed, having clearly enjoyed Future-Todd’s beginning of a hickey, because it makes it an even choice, not a sure thing vs a pipe dream, and he picked the shitty option.

“It isn’t. It won’t be,” Future-Todd attempts to placate him. Like Todd’s fucking stupid. One more lie and he’ll straight up bash his own head into the drywall.

“Can you stop imagining murdering yourself for just a second and listen?” Future-Dirk asks. 

Todd makes a defeated gesture. Future him’s already fucked everything, does it really matter if he gets to babble a justification for it?

“You call her, right after we leave, and tell her all about it, looking for forgiveness. But Farah asks for the details, more interested then you could have guessed. She thinks it relieves the pressure of a need for perfection. She likes that she doesn’t have to provide everything. It works, between the three of you. Three of us,” Future-Todd finishes, clearly happy about his own life. Like, _genuinely_ happy, which isn’t an emotion he’d try to fake while selling bullshit. Todd can’t pull off happy, it’s just unrealistic. Knowing that though, leaves him with the unlikeliest of conclusions: he’s not bullshitting.

Todd wants to believe it’s true. His head swims with the idea. Having them both is the wildest of his wild fantasies, the truly unobtainable. Actually getting it? Shit. It might even be a sign his karma is beginning to heal, that he’s spiraling upwards. 

“Go and kiss him,” Future-Dirk says. “I remember how much I wanted you to.”

He’s already admitted defeat, letting Future-Todd’s words worm into his brain. Might as well commit to being a piece of shit and take their unreliable word for it, do something to current day Dirk. Get what he _wants_. He leans further down, past Future-Todd, until he’s nearly nose to the mattress and Dirk is right in front of him. He slots his face into place beside him, and joins their lips. Todd doesn’t waste much time before sucking his lip into his mouth and biting it, clamping it between his teeth. It’s not that he wants to taste the copper pennies of Dirk’s blood on his tongue, except for how he does. On Todd’s list of things that should not be things for him it’s so low it barely computes. He’s not going to worry about a little bloodlust, not right now.

Things begin to cross the line when Future-Todd gets a hand on his belt and opens his fly. Todd would protest except Future-Todd is yanking his pants off with the rough enthusiasm he likes best in bed. Would protest, except his teeth never leave Dirk’s neck as Future-Todd strips him so he doesn’t have the mouth for it. Would protest, except Dirk’s hands immediately move to his bare ass to help them grind their cocks together. So maybe the protest would have turned into gratitude spilling over his lips, who knows. 

Todd never actually completed that ‘would you fuck a clone of yourself’ Buzzfeed meme. He got sent a link to it, because Amanda is very good at pop culture -even now, as she lives in a van with four spiritual vampires and a feral humanoid, she has links he’s never seen- but he hadn’t done more than chuckle and click out. He has a feeling he’s going to be finding out his quiz results tonight. Todd has a sudden fantasy of future Todd roughly fingering him, the frantic way he likes it, while Future-Dirk helps Dirk prepare his cock. He imagines riding Dirk, surrounded by warm hands, everyone touching each other. 

In reality it doesn’t get that intense. Future Dirk and Future Todd mostly just watch as Todd bites marks into Dirk’s neck, fresh as the fallen snow no longer. Occasionally there’s a pinch to his inner thigh, the kind of harsh movement that will result in a bruise the next day. It’s the kind of shit Todd’s totally fucking weak for, and insider information both of their future counterparts have that Dirk doesn’t yet. Of course, he’s as observant as a Holistic Detective must be, and Todd has little fucking doubt that he’ll hesitate to try it himself the next time they do this. Todd’s _not_ holistic, and he sure the hell notices the way Future-Dirk lovingly reaches out once or twice to jerk on Dirk’s hair. 

They rub off together. It’s all they end up doing, just writhing together as the precome and sweat builds up and friction morphs to a glide. Dirk really is a fuckin’ furnace, or maybe it’s just an effect of the alcohol. It’s not the pinnacle of filthy rough biting bruising sex, but it’s real, it’s actually happening, and that makes it the best thing in Todd’s world. 

Once they’ve both come, Dirk looking beautiful with his hair plastered to his face and bite marks patchworked across his throat, Future-Todd and Future-Dirk stand up. They’re both hard, but somehow that’s less provocative than the way they’re holding hands. Todd can barely tear his eyes away from Dirk, but in his current lifestyle it’s dangerous to not pay attention to the anomalies. Standing means something’s about to happen.

“So when I was on the other side of this, future me told me to call right away, not bitch out,” Future-Todd starts. “I’m going to give you the same advice, and you’re going to give him the same advice.”

Time loops are wild, Todd thinks as he realizes that that statement is right. Due to the nature of time travel there will always be another current him getting advice from a future him. And despite the actual life-altering advice he’s destined to give, Todd can’t help but get a little high on the weirdness of the universe. 

“I promise you, everything will, in fact, be alright,” Future-Dirk says tenderly. Easy for him to say, having already gotten what he wants.

But Todd doesn’t have the time to point that out, because a moment later the pair is pixelating out, a reverse of what happened to bring them here. Todd wonders what would happen if he reached out to grab himself before he faded entirely, but doesn’t do it. He doesn’t want to accidentally grab his own kidneys, keep them in this time, and resign himself to a painful death.

“I’ll get your phone?” a naked and fluid drenched Dirk asks.

“Uh-”

“I’ve figured out your passcode,” he continues. 

“You really think I should call Farah?” Lying by omission about cheating would make him a piece of shit, of course, but telling the truth can be so fucking hard.

“Of course. You already have, and you always will.”

Fucking fate. Fucking Dirk, and fucking fate, and fucking holistic strings of the universe bullshit. Todd never asked for this - except for the months he spent with Farah searching for a recaptured Dirk with desperate zealotry.

Well, hopefully for once things will go his way. Hopefully he’s balanced the karmic scales enough that the universe deems him deserving of good things, like a girlfriend with enough love in her heart to accept that her boyfriend also loves another man. Todd pulls a thin hotel pillow over his face and says into the down, “pass me the phone.” Here goes nothing, aside from his lover, his career, his health insurance, and his purpose in life.

The phone rings twice before she picks up. Todd takes a fortifying breath and breaches the void. “Hey. Farah?”

“Hey Todd.”

“A really holistic thing happened today...”


End file.
